


Holiday Madness

by Alisanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, M/M, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 13:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9273827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: You know he’ll be there, which means you will be, too.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [digthewriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/digthewriter/gifts).



> **Author's Notes:** Written for Daily_Deviant's 2016 Kinky Kristmas fest.   
>  My recipient, Digthewriter, requested a ‘quirky, angsty’ piece with dirty talk, and dressed up, semi-public place sex. Right in my wheelhouse. *g*
> 
> Thanks to Sevfan and Emynn for the beta. <3

~

Holiday Madness

~

When the invitation arrives in the mail you stare at it, turning it over in your hands as you consider what to do. 

He’ll be there, you can feel it. This is just the sort of event he’d attend. There’s no way he could resist a holiday tribute to fallen war heroes, after all. 

Pansy gives you a knowing look when you invite her to go with you, but she says nothing, for which you are grateful. 

“Those aren’t your best robes,” she says when you pick her up. 

You shrug, extending your arm. “You never know what will happen at these things.” 

When you arrive, he’s already there, surrounded by his adoring public, as always. He’s resplendent in formal robes, his hair as ridiculous as ever, but somehow the tousled look suits him. He’s gorgeous, but, as usual, he seems unaware of his appeal, and that combination of innocence and sensuality makes you want to fuck him right there and then. 

The people surrounding him are smiling, touching him, trying to impress him, and while he seems at ease, you can tell the attention makes him uncomfortable. After years of studying him, you’ve come to realise he hates the attention, but he always handles his popularity with aplomb, with maturity into which you’ve seen him grow. 

Your eyes meet his across the room, and that intense gaze hits you, sending a jolt of awareness through you. It goes all the way to your toes. That’s when you know it’s going to be one of _those_ nights, and you’re more than ready. Desire coils low inside you, and somehow you dredge up a smirk. 

He raises an eyebrow before glancing towards a corner. 

You incline your head. 

“Well, I suppose I should go and find something to entertain myself with,” says Pansy, tone dry. “Now that you’ve seen the reason we’re here.” 

“Shut up, Pansy,” you say absently. 

She sighs. “Just…be careful, Draco, all right?” 

She sounds worried and, just for a moment, you take your eyes off Potter to look at her. “I’ll be fine,” you say. “You worry too much.” 

“And you don’t worry enough,” she replies before standing up on her tiptoes to kiss your cheek. “See you later.” 

You watch her walk away for a moment, and by the time you look back towards where Potter had been standing, he’s gone. 

Snagging a brandy from a passing tray, you toss it back, savouring the burn as it goes down your throat. 

Licking your lips, you wend your way through the crowd, arriving at the corner of the room. There are thick, velvet curtains there, and just as you reach out to shift them aside, a hand emerges, grabbing your arm and dragging you behind them. 

There’s a small, hidden alcove there, obviously a storage place for extra linens and dishes since they’re sitting right there, and although you’re right next to the other attendees, you can barely hear them. Then, everything else fades when you look at Potter. 

His eyes are bright, his lips parted, he’s almost unbearably handsome in the damned dress robes, but before you can say a word, he drags you close, and his mouth is on yours. His tongue thrusts past your lips and you’re lost. 

He kisses like he does everything, with his whole body, his soul, and before you know it, he’s walked you backwards until you’re pressed up against the wall, palms pressed flat against his chest. You can feel the heat radiating off him, through his formal robes, and you want to rip them off.

But you don’t. You soften your mouth, capitulate, let him control the kiss, and when he relaxes, when the kiss turns slow, sensual, you strike. 

Spinning him around, you shove him up against the wall, your hands finally parting his robes to caress the warm skin beneath. 

His laughter is dark. “Eager tonight, are we?”

“You’re the one who dragged me in here,” you remind him before scraping your teeth along the column of his throat. When he gasps, you smirk. “Clearly you can’t resist me.” 

“You’re a fucking pain in my arse,” he growls, his hands settling on your backside. 

You slide your palm down over his stomach and into his pants. “That so?” you whisper, your smirk deepening as he whimpers. 

Sealing your mouth over his, you stroke him slowly, swallowing his moans as his cock swells in your hand. You swipe your thumb over the tip, his pre-come seeping onto your skin. 

“Can you be quiet?” you whisper as you pull away. 

Potter’s eyes glisten behind his glasses. “What are you—? Oh, fuck!”

“Shh,” you admonish as you drop to your knees. You’ve been thinking about sucking him all day, imagining how he’ll taste. The weight of his cock on your tongue makes you shiver, and as you take the crown in your mouth and lick the slit, you’re rewarded with a gush of slick bitterness and a twitch of his hips. 

“Malfoy,” he sighs, his hands settling on your head.

You hum, smirking as his breath hitches, and as you slide your mouth over and down his cock, he moans. 

“Quiet,” you say, pulling off to look up at him from under your lashes. “You don’t want anyone coming to investigate, do you?”

“N…no,” Potter whispers. He whimpers as you take him in your mouth again, as you roll his bollocks in your hand. His fingers tighten in your hair. “Although I’m not the slag on my knees.” 

You moan around him, a shiver going through you as the words sink in. You open your throat, swallow around him.

He hisses, holds your head steady, rocking forward as he starts to fuck your mouth. “You thought I…hadn’t noticed…how much you…love dirty talk?” he gasps as he moves. “You’re such a…perfect cocksucker, Malfoy. You’d get on your knees…for anyone, wouldn’t you?”

You hadn’t realised he knew, and as his rhythm goes ragged, as he slams into your mouth, you’re burning up. Your hard cock is pressing against your trousers, and it’s all you can do not to come untouched.

He’s about to come, you can feel it. His words are garbled, but soft, and as he begins to spurt, you pull back. As his hot come hits you in the face, you close your eyes, savour the sensation. You feel deliciously dirty as his come falls into your mouth, into your hair. 

When he’s done, you lean in once again, bracing yourself on his thighs. Licking his cock, you start cleaning up.

“Fuck, Malfoy.” He sounds wrecked, and when you look up at him, he growls something under his breath and, reaching down, pulls you up and devours your mouth. 

You’re still rock hard, aching to come, and as you kiss him back, you undo your flies, reaching for your prick. 

But he’s anticipated you. “I thought we could change things this time,” he whispers as he pulls away, batting your hand away from your cock. He gives it a quick stroke. “Maybe tonight you can show me what you can do with this.” 

You pull back, stare him in the face. “We’re right next to a holiday celebration,” you remind him, remind yourself. 

His smile is lopsided. “So?” He grins. “Can you be quiet?” 

You sneer at him, even as your heart races. In all the encounters you’ve had with him, you’ve never done _this_. Blow jobs and hand jobs are one thing, but this is…new. “Can _you_?” you toss back. 

He inclines his head. “Let’s see.” 

Turning to face the wall, he shoves down his trousers and pants and shrugs off his robes, tossing them aside before bracing himself. His arse is full, well-shaped, tempting. You stare at it, your mouth dry. “Spread your legs,” you say, your voice almost unrecognisable to yourself. 

He does, and as you lean in, pressing your chest to his back, you murmur in his ear, “Now who’s eager?” 

He laughs softly. “You going to talk, or fuck me?” he asks. 

You want this. You _need_ this. You’ve needed it since school, since forever. Closing your eyes, you try to calm yourself long enough to cast the necessary spells, and when you press a finger into his hole, it’s slick and loose. But not too loose. He’s going to feel you.

He arches his back, begging wordlessly. 

Two fingers it is, then. When you manage three, he’s whimpering, riding your fingers as they fuck him deep and slow. His forehead is pressed to the wall, his breath escaping in short bursts. “Just fuck me,” he says. “Come on.” 

“Salazar,” you gasp, pulling your fingers out and, somehow, managing to conjure lube to slick yourself up with. It’s all you can do not to come as you eye his flexing hole. And then it’s time, and you line up, press inside him, and he’s taking you, squeezing you. 

His hands form fists, but he doesn’t say a word as you drive inside. You start to move and he moans softly, arching back to meet you. His cock, which had been flaccid, is half hard again, so he’s clearly enjoying himself. 

You stop worrying, and clasping his hips, you thrust forward, over and over, the pleasure shooting through you as you pound into him. He goes rigid as you move over one specific spot, and so you concentrate on that area, pummelling it unrelentingly. 

He falls apart, his breath coming in fast pants as he bites his fist to stifle the noises he’s making. 

You move faster, fucking into him with fast thrusts, all thoughts focussed on the pleasure you can feel building in your core until it bursts from you and you grind against him, trembling as you spill inside him. You collapse on him, gasping for breath. 

He shifts, his hand reaching for himself, and after only a few pulls he comes again, moaning long and low. 

When you can stand, you push away from him, do up your flies, straighten up your robes. A quick cleaning spell makes your hair presentable. No one will know what happened. Pansy, probably, but no one else.

Potter has retrieved his robes, has dusted them off, and is once again looking impeccable. 

As you face him, you feel awkward, but you keep your face as expressionless as you can. 

He stares at you for so long you wonder if he’s a Legilimens. 

You look away. It wouldn’t do for him to know what you’re thinking just then. 

“Right,” he finally says. “That was—”

You smirk. “Yes?” 

He shakes his head. “It was fun. I’m glad I decided to attend tonight. I almost didn’t.”

“It was…tolerable,” you say.

He laughs. “Sure. Anyway, see you at the next party.” He clears his throat. “Maybe next time—”

You raise an eyebrow, meet his gaze. “Next time?” you ask, ignoring your racing heart. 

He smiles faintly. “Maybe next time we can turn the tables.”

It takes everything you have not to suggest you leave together immediately. You shrug. “We’ll see.” 

He nods and a moment later slips through the curtains and is gone.

Sagging, you exhale, prepare to step once again into the party. And as you part the curtains to exit, you smile. Time to find Pansy and leave. After all, you need to pick the next event to attend. 

~


End file.
